On Cato and Clove
by AngelicSpring
Summary: "I can't bring myself to think that the warrior's armor shattered, revealing a schoolboy I thought he never was." Because out of all the tributes, it was Katniss who saw most of the truth.


**Title: **On Cato and Clove

**Type:** One-shot

**Summary: "**I can't bring myself to think that the warrior's armor shattered, revealing a schoolboy I thought he never was. Theirs was the story that was never meant to be written, the affection that was naught to exist." Because out of all the tributes, it was Katniss who saw most of the truth.

**Rating: **T

**Author: **AngelicSpring

**DISCLAIMER: **AngelicSpring rightfully respects the ingenuity of Suzanne Collins. She claims no ownership over the mind-blowing world of The Hunger Games.

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_Katniss Everdeen: On Cato and Clove_

I have seen both of them in training, and none of them misses. They were brutal, sadistic and ready to kill. Their looks are deceiving, making you think they were angels rather than demons, sheep more than wolves, good than bad. They had fire in their eyes, screaming bloody murder, revenge and bloodlust.

That girl Clove? She's this wisp of a girl with knives and never does she let them go. Her knives are like a part of her soul; they move the way she wants them to. Her wrists flick in the slightest way possible and before you know it, five daggers are protruding from the dummy's heart. No matter how new the knives are, it was like they were hers all her life. She's connected to them like how I am with bows and arrows. It makes her ruthless despite the angelic facade. She's quick at her feet and moves fluidly. She could be standing a couple of meters away from you and the next, she has you pinned on the floor with one of her prized knives threatening to cut your throat open.

That boy Cato? He's nowhere near your average schoolboy. Figures, they don't go to a normal school. Cato is more of an esteemed warrior, somebody who's been into carnage and not just some petty immature high school drama. Frankly, he's a monster and the first person you would not want to mess with. He handles every sword as if it was a toothpick and slashes through everything that stands in his way mercilessly. Out of all the tributes, he's the first one who would most probably survive. He could kill with his bare hands. I've seen it. And he never hesitates.

Everytime my thoughts gather themselves and circle around the fallen Tributes of District 2, I can't help but remember why they are some of the many people I think highly of. I think of that one time when I realized why they had looks that deceive rather than appearances that could make people flee in terror.

It was because they were once the sheep and not the wolves, the angels and not the demons. It was because deep down in their beings, goodness lives. It may be thwarted by the dark reality their district made them swallow when they were young, but it exists there somehow.

_Clove screaming for Cato._ It was the first time I heard her yell in plea, the first time she sounded so desperate. But somehow, something in her eyes told me it wasn't help she was asking for. I couldn't move from where I was. Thresh was there beating her senseless, trying to get her to admit a murder she did not commit. And I just sat there, paralyzed from my near-death encounter with that girl and frozen by the fact that another killer is in my midst.

I thought Cato was going to burst from the woods after she screamed for him to come for the second time. I thought he was just lurking behind the shadows, waiting for their next kill and completely had her back.

But he wasn't.

All was said and done, and the female tribute of District 2 gasps for breath so scarce, her male counterpart still nowhere near. Thresh was asking me questions about Rue and I was babbling for answers, my eyes not wanting to leave the broken face of Clove. I didn't know what made the tears form – talking about Rue's death or seeing another one. But, then Thresh ran away with District 2's bag and relief flooded all over me as I realized that he let me go for the little girl's sake. I barely realized that I needed to run away, too, for Cato might soon emerge from the thick veil of trees.

I only had enough time to hide in Mother Nature arms when I heard him.

Cato, the boy with the swords, the boy who could kill, the boy that I saw in a different view that day.

He sounded as desperate as her, willing her to live and to breathe the breath that would never come again. He sounded so unbelievably broken that I hesitated for a second and debated with myself if I should go see if it was really him. I didn't, and I continued to run instead. I can't imagine the look on his face as he appeared from the forest, gasping for breath as his lungs labored from running god-knows-how-many miles just to reach her and finding her on the brink of death. I can't bring myself to think that the warrior's armor shattered, revealing a schoolboy I thought he never was. It was impossible to even visualize the boy from District 2 broken beyond repair.

He knows that she would not make it. No matter how loud he shouts for her to never close her eyes on him, to continue breathing and to make it long enough for him to kill everybody else so that they could go home. Together.

I don't know what else transpired between the two of them at Clove's last moments. The indistinct last words were carried by the wind, leaving them unheard by me. It didn't matter. I don't have to hear everything to know it. Some things you just know because – you feel it in your bones. And also, because they have been true all these time. All these time and nobody ever noticed.

_Cato had Peeta in a deathly headlock._ I looked deep in his eyes to see the remorse even he did not know was there. I heard the truth behind his threats. I saw the pain behind the bloodlust, the agony behind the murder and the loss behind the arrogance. I let go of the arrow, not missing the carefully plotted _X _Peeta had marked – the only spot that could hurt him amidst the flesh-colored, skin-tight body armor. And there I saw, in his blood-streaked face... as the arrow hit its mark, unmistakable relief behind the madness.

I don't know what made him give up the fight with the mutts. Probably a severed limb, extreme blood loss, exhaustion; it could be anything. But, Rue's eyes on one of the mutts brought forth the dawn of realization. He probably saw Clove's eyes, too and proved that he has been dead all this time without so much as realizing it himself. He always was. With all of those in mind, I shot the last arrow, right at his head, not at the very least needing his choked plea.

Cato and Clove were, in my honest opinion, as 'star-crossed' as Peeta and I. Maybe even more so. Theirs was the story that was never meant to be written, the affection that was naught to exist. Theirs was the ending everybody knew and the beginning they dismissed. They were only fighting for the pride of the district that couldn't care less if they perished. They were fighting a battle that was already lost. They were rooting for a cause that was not for them. They were breakable, but they withstood pain long enough to not appear as such. They were clueless to the things that supposedly should have made them alive. They were dead, and lost in the world of the living.

The boy with the swords and the girl who never misses were the unseen angels, the unheard sheep and the unfelt good of the 74th Hunger Games.

The odds were never in their favor.

Mellark _nee_ Everdeen, K.

_**~0~**_

**My first Hunger Games fan fic (and one-shot) and I'm all jittery. It's just a little something that has been nagging my procrastinating mind and I just HAD to write it down despite the fact that I have to finish... a lot of things. *sweat-drops* And I have no idea how it would turn out exactly. **

**But anyhoo, the CloveXCato pairing is my second favorite pairing in the entire series and I really want to believe that they are not completely the monsters people think them to be, and so here we are. **

**Read and Review? **

**May the odds be ever in your favor, **

**AngelicSpring, the girl under pressure**


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